


The Absense of Light

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (which is actually canon but you know like full galra keith not half), Altean Hunk (Voltron), Altean Lance (Voltron), Altean Pidge | Katie Holt, Galra Keith (Voltron), Galra Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Well see, aka why would I do this to myself, all the characters like lowkey hate themselves so you knpw, also this isnt edited, altean allura, enjoy ;), i may never update again, idk what else to put here, its 3am and im very sleep deprived, let me have this, like i just came up with this a couple hours ago, ooh what a twist, or planned out, thatll be fun, whatever I don't have to explain myself to you, who couldve seen that coming, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith is an unwilling Galra soldier, Lance is a prince going through an existential crisis. When Keith is captured by the Altean army and then given a chance to join the Blade of Marmora soon after, it seems like a sign that he can turn his life around, with the help of an overenthusiastic prince, of course.I'm bad at descriptions. Stay tuned for romance?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha ha hey so it's very late and this hasn't been edited or proofread or anything so just keep that in mind when you read, also there's too much Klangst, I kept going and never stopped. I haven't written a long, committed fic in years, oh god this is going to be a trainwreck. Enjoy!

Lance was getting bored. 

His two guards, Hunk and Pidge, were off collecting Galra prisoners, and so he was stuck at the palace, alone, bored, and wishing he was a soldier instead of a prince just so that he could go with them. Hunk and Pidge were Lance’s guards, but they were also his friends, and he missed them when they were away. He’d taken to hanging out with Allura and Coran, both of whom were boring and old and didn’t know any card games or want to break any rules. 

It was enough to drive a prince crazy. 

“Lance, you must stop acting so restless,” Allura chided as Lance threw down a winning hand of cards. They’d been playing for hours, every game he could think of, and it would have been great, if it wasn’t for the fact that Allura and Coran hadn’t picked up the rules, and Lance won easily every round. 

“But I’m booooored,” he complained, flopping out of his chair to lie dramatically on the floor. “This is booooooring.” 

“I don’t know,” Coran, ever the optimist, shrugged. “I rather enjoyed that fish game.” 

“That’s go fish,” Lance told him, “and that’s the worst one! It’s so boring and stupid, just like  _ everything else _ .” 

Allura leaned out of her chair to pat her brother’s leg. “It’ll be okay.” 

“No it woooooooon’t. I miss my friends!” Lance knew he sounded like a whiny baby, but he didn’t particularly care. “How come they get to go have fun and I’m stuck here in the stupid castle?”

Allura raised an eyebrow. “They’re bringing home war criminals. I don’t think they’re having that much fun.”    
“At least they get to leave the palace,” Lance grumbled. 

“You’ll get to leave once the war is over,” Coran reminded him. 

_ When the war is over, when the war is over.  _ Would the war ever be over? And when it was, would there be another excuse in place, ready to keep Lance confined in the palace forever? 

He knew he shouldn’t complain. There were people dying out there, sacrificing their lives for the sake of their country. Why couldn’t Lance be one of them? 

“Cheer up, buttercup,” Coran said unhelpfully. “Oh! It looks like Pidge is comming us! Do you want to say hi?” 

Lance was already on his feet, accepting the call. “Pidge! Piiiiiidge! Pidge, I miss you so much, where’s Hunk, Huuunk, buddy, come back, I’ve been dying without you guys, when are you getting back?” 

Pidge rolled her eyes, but Lance caught her smiling. “I was… uh… hoping to talk to  _ Coran _ , but sure, you’ll work too.”    
“You mean you don’t want to see me?” Lance pouted. “ _ Me _ ? Your best friend?” 

“I thought I was your best friend,” Hunk piped up from the background. 

“No, you’re my bro. We’ve transcended friendship and entered bro-dom.” Lance ignored Allura’s snickering from behind him. “So, when are you guys getting back?” 

“Tomorrow morning, probably,” Pidge said, ignoring Lance’s squeals of joy. “Now, if you don’t mind, can I talk to Coran? Some of us have  _ jobs _ , your highness.” 

Hunk mouthed,  _ I’m sorry _ , and pointed at Pidge, but it was too late, Lance’s mood had already been brought down. Pidge was right, he didn’t have a job. His friends were out defeating Zarkon, and here was was, playing cards. He wasn’t helping his kingdom. He was a bad prince, and he would make a worse king. 

Lance gloomily passed the comm-screen to Coran, who held it closer to his face than he needed to -- he had never quite gotten the hang of the new technology Pidge had helped develop inside the palace. 

“Hello, Pidge,” he waved into the screen. “What’s the latest news?”    
“Same old same old,” Pidge reported. “We have about fifty galra soldiers with us, and like I told Lance, we should arrive on Altea tomorrow morning. I just commed to check in, thought it would be the nice thing to do, I dunno. Do you have our next assignment?” 

Coran shook his head. “Actually, you and Hunk have a bit of a break for the next couple of weeks. Just guarding our young prince here.” 

“Ugh,” Pidge laughed, “send me back onto the battlefield.” 

“Don’t even joke about that, young lady,” Coran scolded, but his tone was soft. 

This was Lance’s life. Everyone around him joked and played and saved the empire and he sat around and waited. 

“Lance, you okay?” Allura asked. Allura was just as much royalty as Lance, but she spent all her time strategizing and reaching out to the Altean people. She was the perfect princess. The better of the two of them, certainly. 

He forced a smile. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

 

________________________________

 

Keith hadn’t wanted to join Zarkon’s army. 

He’d been drafted when he was barely old enough to drive a podship, and he’d spent the last few years of his life fighting for a cause he didn’t believe in. It wasn’t like all his fellow soldiers were so crazy about Zarkon either. The generals loved him, sure, but Keith wasn’t a general. He was a lowly foot soldier, and he didn’t want to serve the emperor. He wanted to go home and have a normal life. 

You could imagine how thrilled Keith was when he was captured by Altean troops. 

It was a better fate than death, he supposed, but the whole thing felt like icing on the shitty cake. He wasn’t one of the guys who went out screaming about how his whole life would be worth it to serve Zarkon. He gave up his weapons and went quietly, and wondered what would have happened to him if Zarkon’s scouts hadn’t decided he was a good pilot. 

Better. More peaceful. Less complicated. He would be back home, he would have a family, he would probably be eating dinner right around now. 

As it was, he was being unloaded off of an Altean ship like cargo after who knows how many weeks stuck aboard in a tiny, cramped cell. At this point, he didn’t care who was right in this war and who was wrong. Zarkon was evil for drafting him, the Alteans were evil for sticking him on their ship, everyone was evil for existing, at this point. 

Keith just wanted to go home. More accurately, he wanted a home to go to in the first place. 

“Keep moving,” a guard snapped at him, and he shuffled along faster. He didn’t know why there were so many guards. They’d taken all the Galra soldiers’ weapons, and their hands were bound behind their backs. It wasn’t like they were going to escape.

Keith didn’t think about where he was going, he just followed the crowd, and let his feet carry him. Keith tried his best not to feel anymore, had since he was drafted. Feelings could only cause trouble. If Keith felt bad, that meant he recognized something was wrong. And if he knew something was wrong, he would want to fix it. But there was nothing to be fixed, nothing that  _ could  _ be fixed, so he had decided it was easier not to feel at all. 

The unnecessarily large group of guards took Keith and the other Galra soldiers through a long, empty corridor and down a flight of stairs. Another hallway, more stairs, another hallway, more stairs, until they had reached a small room. The soldiers were ushered into it, even though it was too big to fit all of them comfortably. Keith ended up squished in between a man twice his size and the wall, scared to move for fear of being crushed. 

“Galra soldiers!” someone shouted, and Keith peered through the crowd to see a man standing on a platform at the front of the room. He was Galra, but he wasn’t a prisoner, wearing the uniform of a high status official. One of his arms, Keith noticed when he came near him, was fake, and the prosthetic looked Altean made. 

“I understand that you are scared, and that you probably don’t trust the Altean army right now. I don’t blame you. However, I raise a question: how many of you were drafted into Zarkon’s army against your will?”

_ Me,  _ Keith thought. Most of the people in the room had too, if he was to guess. Zarkon didn’t have many volunteers lining up to serve in his army, but he had to get his forces from  _ somewhere.  _

“A lot of you may not want to serve Zarkon, however, it is the only choice you have. I am offering you another option. If you wish, you may spend your time on Altea with me rather than in a cell. I will train you to fight against Zarkon, and in return, when Altea wins the war, you will be granted a full pardon for your crimes and the ability to roam the galaxy as you wish. If you would like to join me, please, come forward.”    
It was all Keith needed to hear. It was his ticket out, his get out of jail free card. He could fight for Altea for a few years and be free if they won. And if they lost, he could always run away. He was good at hiding, and even if Zarkon found him, there wasn’t much to live for at this point. 

Keith pushed his way to the front of the crowd, accompanied by a few younger soldiers, all of whom looked as miserable as Keith felt. The majority of the soldiers, though, stayed where they were, choosing Zarkon over potential freedom. 

“Thank you for your choices,” the man said, addressing the crowd as a whole, even the ones who were against him. “Those of you who choose to remain loyal to Emperor Zarkon will be escorted to the dungeons. The rest of you stay here with me.”    
Keith watched as the army went, the people he had fought beside, lived with for years. He didn’t think he would miss them. He didn’t even know most of their names. 

There were only a few soldiers left in the room, but the man addressed them as if it was as full as it had been mere ticks ago. 

“My name is Shiro,” he told them. “I work for the Blade of Marmora, a Galra group dedicated to stopping Zarkon. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, I have a feeling this is too many notes. The chapter title is the song The Draw by Bastille for no other reason than I kept listening to it while I was writing and it's too late to think of a real title so yeah stay tuned? Idk what I'm doing.


End file.
